Last night, I dreamed that I was sitting in my bedroom and that I was looking through a thick hard-cover back about the history of online film reviewing. I found my name in the index and and flipped to every mention of me in the text. Once I had read all there was to read about me, I dropped the book on my nightstand, got in bed, and went to sleep.
Last night, I dreamed that I was a school bus that was being driven through a rain forest. The bus suddenly stopped, a man in a camouflage uniform stepped on board, and announced that he was hijacking the bus in the name of North Korea.
Last night, I dreamed that I was visiting a friend of mine. He lived in two-story, glass house and, when I went up to the second floor, I immediately saw that there were wasps everywhere. Only, these weren’t normal wasps. These wasps were slightly bigger than usual and they were a washed-out yellow color, like yellow jackets but not quite as brightly decorated. My friend explained that there were always a lot of wasps this time of year but that they would all die once the weather got colder.
Since I’m scared to death of wasps (in both the dream and the waking world), I went back downstairs. Fortunately, it didn’t appear that there were any wasps down there, so I went into the living room, curled up on the couch, and watched television.
Suddenly, I realized that there was a wasp on the ceiling, directly above my head. My friend came in the room and started to apologize for all the wasps but I was too petrified with fear to tell him about the one directly above me.
While my friend started to talk about something he had seen on TV, the wasp started to slowly move across the ceiling. Then, it suddenly flew down to the couch and landed right beside my foot.
Finally, my friend saw the wasp and slammed his open palm down on top of it!
And that’s when I woke up.
Seriously, wasps freak me out so much.
Finally, a new dream! I was a little bit worried that I was going to go this entire week without having one worth remembering.
Anyway, bear with me here. This dream is even more fragmentary than usual. (Also, because of the nature of the dream, I’ve changed the names of some of the people involved.)
In this dream, I was in Houston. I was visiting Tracy, a friend who, in real life, I haven’t seen in over six years. When I arrived at her house, she told me that she had great news. Another one of our friends, Jaye, would soon be arriving for the weekend!
Tracy then gave me a tour of the house and, to my shock, I discovered that her house looked exactly like my grandmother’s old house in Fort Smith, Arkansas. I didn’t say anything to Tracy about it, though. I just accepted that my grandma’s old house (which burned down years ago) was now in Houston and Tracy was living in it.
Tracy led me to the guest room where I would be staying for the weekend. It turned out that the guest room looked just like my bedroom, right down to having the exact same books and magazines on the nightstand. Tracy left me alone in the room and, as I looked around, I somehow realized that the guest room was in some sort of parallel dimension. So, even though my stuff was in this room, I knew it was also back in my bedroom as well.
Suddenly, Tracy reentered the room, crying. She told me that her mother had just died and that her father had moved in. As Tracy cried, I saw a depressed-looking middle-aged man shuffling around in the hallway outside my room. I knew that was Tracy’s Dad. (In real life, I never met Tracy’s father.) After Tracy finally left the room, I shut the door and locked it. I then got in bed and started reading one of my books.
Someone knocked on the door. I got up, unlocked the door, and opened it. Tracy, now in a much better mood, came in and announced that Jaye had arrived!
We ran into the living room, where we found Jaye sitting on the couch. I immediately noticed that Jaye didn’t seem to be particularly excited to see us. Tracy sat next to Jaye on the couch while I sat down in a nearby chair. Tracy asked Jaye how she had been. Jaye shrugged. I asked Jaye what she was doing now. “Just stuff,” Jaye replied.
Suddenly, Tracy stood up and said, “I wanted both of you here to tell you that I’m going to be moving.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Ever since mom died, it’s been too difficult trying to take care of Dad. So, we’re moving tomorrow. I need your help to get us packed.”
“You’re not going to be able to get all of this stuff packed in a day,” I said.
Suddenly, Jaye spoke up. “You’ll have to have a sale.”
Suddenly, there were all these people walking around the house, asking how much everything cost. I got annoyed with all of them so I went back to the guest room, where I was even more annoyed to discover two nerdy-looking guys going through all of my books and magazines. One guy was particularly happy to discover that I had an old issue of New York Magazine.
“How much for this?” he asked.
“It’s not for sale,” I replied, snatching it away from him.
“You don’t even live in New York,” he said.
“I like to look at the movie listings,” I explained, “It’s none of your business.”
Suddenly, Tracy and I were standing outside of the house, watching as a group of movers loaded several large boxes into the back of a moving van.
“Do you think Dad will like the new house?” Tracy asked me.
“Where’s your father?” I responded.
“He’s doing his show,” Tracy replied, “He’ll meet us there.”
I stepped back inside of the house. Everything had been removed from the living room, except for a television. On the TV, Tracy’s father was competing on a game show. On the show, two teams of five would compete to see who could answer the most questions correctly. Each team was made up of four children and one adult coach. Tracy’s father was one of the coaches and he was yelling at his team for getting too many answers incorrect. The audience was booing him.
Suddenly, I was in the studio, standing backstage. Tracy’s father was in front of me, crying. “I just don’t know how to talk to people,” he said.
“Have you been drinking?” I asked.
“30 days sober,” he replied.
And that, unfortunately, is when I woke up.
Last night’s dream was short but weird. In fact, it was so weird that I wish it had been longer.
I was cleaning the living room when I came across a scrap of paper that had been left under the couch. I looked at the scrap and I discovered it was a note from our cat, Doc, informing me that he had run away to Switzerland and he had joined the International Union of Feline Socialists. The note ended with:
Death Upon the Insect That Feeds On The People,
I took the note to my sister, Erin. She read it. I pointed out that the note made no sense because Doc was a cat so why would he care about the insect that feeds on the people. Erin nodded and then said, “Well … let’s go got him.”
And, tragically, that’s where I woke up! I so wish I hadn’t. I would have loved to gone to Switzerland!
Finally! I have a new dream to share with everyone!
Last night’s dream started with me and my best friend Evelyn sitting in the back of a taxi that was being driven through downtown Dallas. I complained that I was starting to feel ill and I asked the driver if he could roll down the back window. The driver said nothing and I looked over at Evelyn and shrugged.
(In real life, I do occasionally suffer from car sickness and, unless I’m the one driving, I usually do prefer to have a window rolled down.)
The taxi stopped in front of this huge hotel. It was one of those hotels that has probably been quite impressive back in the day but now, it just looked old. Evelyn and I got out of the taxi. The driver asked for his money. I told him that he wouldn’t get paid because he didn’t roll down the window when I asked. Then Evelyn and I entered the hotel.
Evelyn and I stepped into a large hotel room, one that was considerably nicer than I was expecting. There was a TV sitting in front of the bed. I turned on the TV, sat on the edge of the bed, and watched. Evelyn asked me what was on. I said it was a movie that I was thinking of sharing with the Late Night Movie Gang.
(The Late Night Movie Gang is real. We meet almost every Saturday night and watch an old movie.)
The movie was a low-budget, black-and-white film from the 50s. It was about an old man who lived in a shack. Every night, he would stand in his doorway and he would chant, “To Life Now!” as an army of zombies gathered in front of the shack. Then, the old man would step back into the shack and close the door. The zombies would then wander through the city, attacking anyone who they came acorss. Once the sun rose, the zombies would again gather in front of the shack and dematerialize until the old man called for them again.
The detective in charge of investigating the sudden rash of nighttime murders was baffled by their randomness and the lack of any clues. His girlfriend was a journalist who had been born in Ireland and who swore that they same thing happened in Belfast when she was a child. The detective refused to believe her so she decided to investigate on her own. One night, she spotted a zombie and followed it back to the old man’s shack. This time, the old man stepped outside to tell the zombies that they had done a good job. As soon as the zombies saw him, they descended upon him. “THE END” flashed on the screen while dramatic music swelled.
I turned off the TV. I was now alone in the hotel room. As I stood up, I remembered that I had to get to a meeting and I left the room.
Suddenly, I was in London. I knew I was running late for the meeting so I started to run down the sidewalk, bumping past hundreds of people. I stopped just long enough to take off my heels and then I started running again.
I was in an office. There was a balding man sitting behind a desk. He was wearing a suit and a bowtie. I knew he was an attorney. He motioned for me to sit down in front of the desk. I sat down and asked, “Well?”
The man nervously cleared his throat and then spoke with an English accent. “If you want to sue, you have a case but even if you win, chances are you won’t get the credit.”
“What about her brother?” I asked.
“The British courts are not favorable to hearsay.”
This really upset me. “What about the movie!?” I demanded.
The attorney’s eyes narrowed. “There is no real equivalency.”
And then I woke up.